MOVIE REVIEW: 'Frantz' examines nationalism in wake of World War I

Friday

Mar 31, 2017 at 12:04 PMMar 31, 2017 at 3:45 PM

Al Alexander/For The Patriot Ledger

It’s purely happenstance that Francois Ozon’s “Frantz” is so timely in this era of Steve Bannon’s America. But if the film fits, see it. And then decide if nationalism is all it’s cut out to be. In Ozon’s world, which is set immediately after World War I, hindsight tells us that the failure of the French to forgive the Germans – and vice versa – led to the deaths of dozens of millions of Europeans just 20 years later in World War II. So, borders do matter – and the less of them the better. At least that’s the point Ozon is elegantly proffering in his tale of two families – one French and one German – torn asunder by a war serving no purpose beyond thinning the continent’s population by 17 million, most of them men barely above voting age.

One of the casualties was Frantz Hoffmeister, the humanities scholar from tiny Quedlinburg, Germany. His parents, Dr. Hans (Ernst Stötzner) and Magda (Marie Gruber) Hoffmeister are still burdened by unbearable grief. But they aren’t nearly as broken as Frantz’ gorgeous fiancée, Anna (Paula Beer, outstanding), an orphan the Hoffmeisters have taken in and unofficially adopted as their daughter. She is borderline suicidal – until the day she meets the mysterious mustachioed Frenchman who has been placing roses on Frantz’ grave.

His name is Adrien Rivoire (Adrien Brody look-alike Pierre Niney), and he, too, is grieving Frantz’ death. But why should a living French soldier care so much about a dead German one? And what does he hope to gain by daring to set foot in a German hamlet where Krauts are about as welcome as a Democrat at the Freedom Caucus? For me, the reason was obvious. But that’s the only time Ozon drops a tell in a movie loaded with ironic twists and unexpected turns set against a floundering romance that develops between Adrien and Anna.

Like his masterpieces, “8 Women,” “Swimming Pool” and “Under the Sand,” Ozon is again fascinated by characters reckless with the truth. What’s different is that this time the lying isn’t born of deceit, but of benevolence. Yet, there are moral quandaries aplenty. And they’re fascinating in how they all come down to putting country ahead of God and family.

Ozon draws his inspiration from Ernst Lubitsch’s 1932 film “Broken Lullaby,” which like “Frantz” is about a French soldier traveling to Germany to seek forgiveness from a family who lost a son to battle. Where the two films differ is in the second half when Ozon flips the scenario to Anna traveling to Paris to meet Adrien’s family. The parallels Ozon draws are compelling, both visually and narratively. Trains play a large part, coming and going. And the sight of railroads in Germany makes it hard not to make the connection with how Hitler would soon use them as his chief mode of shipping Jews to the gas chamber.

Ozon saves his sharpest criticisms for the nationalist attitudes prevailing through Germany and France, with each segment featuring bar scenes in which allegiances are sworn and the La Marseillaise and its Teutonic counterpart are sung loud and proud enough to drown out the reality that they are behaving like sheep being herded by vengeful rulers who will never set foot into a war zone. At one point, Anna says time will heal the wounds. But how can it when reminders are everywhere, from the broken, burned-out buildings to the streets full of maimed and disfigured veterans? It’s powerful stuff, enhanced by Ozon’s choice to shoot almost entirely in black and white. With a few exceptions, color enters the picture only in flashbacks to Adrien’s friendship with Frantz in pre-war Paris, where they shared a passion for music, and possibly each other. Yes, there are moments of homoeroticism; after all, this is Ozon and it’s one of his trademarks. So is his love of art, represented here in a powerful painting by Manet titled Le Suicide. Not only does it represent the feelings of despair rattling around in Adrien and Anna’s fragile minds, but it also serves as a perfect metaphor for the senselessness of war, where life loses all meaning and death is your only ticket out.